Month: September 2001

Like always, some background information. I had just came to a conclusion to a question which had been itching to be answered all week and i had to get out of the city. If you ever talk to me on a regular basis you know what im talking about, if not, don't worry about it, its hardly relevant to the content below.

Day 1
I walked in the door, showered, and quickly put on a pair of black pants and a crackhore.com t-shirt. Moving quickly, i grabbed a backpack, threw a spare wheel, a spare bearing, my skates and flew out the door. I drove first to Trilogy tattoos, told them i wanted to get my ears pierced, then 20 minutes later i walk out with pierced ears. I hit the interstate and headed south. The drive down was relatively uneventful, once when i stopped to get gas i ended up going north on the freeway insted of south but i guess thats not exciting. Then i saw this place.

Yeah, wtf. I had to walk in to buy a large coffee to stay awake and i got alot of stares, we were already deep in Mississippi. Flooring it as i pull away from the Deliervance of gas stations i finally started to unwind and looked forward to a weekend of skating and not being in Memphis. Not too many things else happened while driving down, nice weather, had the windows rolled down and my mood was already lightening.
The drive continued and i felt the effects of the super large coffee i drank and had to pull over to go to the little Toady's room. Man did i ever pick the wrong spot.

Man was this place scary. I thought the Huddlehouse was just something they joked about but this place, man oh man. I walk in and it looks like this is a hangout for local whitetrash highschool students. They were all planning pool and when i walked in half of them stopped and looked at the city boy with things in his ears. I snuck quickly into the bathroom and then quickly ran out not making eye contact with anyone. Then some rednecks in the parking lot saw me with a huge smile on my face taking a picture of the place. Insted of explaining to them that i have a webpage where i make fun of people like them, i hopped into my car and floored it again. Sigh, i hate Mississippi. No speeding tickets yet though.

As i finally pulled into the city of my heart i felt alot better already. New Orleans is so great, the timeless, the young drunken youth and the old buildings, symbols of the past and the present both doused with cheap rum, hehe. Drove in, gassed up the Horemobile again and decided to find a place to park my car so i could sleep until late in the afternoon and then start day. Well, like always, nothing goes as planned. I pull in the French Quarter

popped the trunk and put on my skates. I skated around for a while and ended up on the infamous Bourbon Street. I hardly ever go to Bourbon when im in New Orleans, just not my favorite place to be, bunch of dirty frat rats and tourists. Still it was really interesting to be be skating around a bunch of drunks, got some interesting pictures too. They're a little blurry but you try taking pictures while moving.

I saw a bunch of just really really strange things that night, for example, here is a homeless guy asleep in a little car.

I decided that was enough skating for one night and that i should get some rest before the next day. Then i remembered, i had no idea where i had parked. Yeah, “doh”. Hehehe. So i skate around for about 3 hours and finally find the Horemobile. I climb in and pass out.

Day 2
I awoke to the sound of traffic. I bet that was a sight for some poor German tourist to see some hobo looking fool getting out of the back seat of a car and walking funny. Ain't America great? Hehe. Well i stop by a Walgreens and buy some Dial to clean the piercings and i end up buying a electric razor because i decided it was time to remove my hair again. Only problem was it had to be plugged into a wall and since it was kickin it hobo style i didn't have a place to plug the thing in. Oh well, answers like those always come to me in good time. Here are some random pictures of the French Quarter i took.

My first and main goal was to find a place to shave my already disgusting hair so i put my stuff in a backpack and began my hunt for free power. At first i thought i could find a bathroom with a power plug in it but i thought the chances of that were slim to none. Then i saw a little parking area that had 2 power plugs! I rushed over, took off one shirt and took out my razor, plugged the thing in and started cutting. I was about halfway done when a little history tour made it's way by. Everyone stops, including the tour guide, then the cameras come up. As i type these people are developing pictures of that strange homeless guy in the alley shaving his head. About 3-4 more people came a little bit closer to take a picture, i gracefully turned around to show the URL of this webpage so that they would know what i was all about and continued shaving. At one point a redneck kinda guy came over and asked to use the razor. He shaved off a small part of his growing mullet and went along. I was there for maybe a total of 15 minutes.
Hehe, well you'll never guess what happened. The owner of the hotel who's parking lot i was using as my own personal barber shop came out to see what the hell was going on. Here is a dialog of what went on.

What in the hell do you think your doing?!?!
I'm cutting my hair.
**silence**
Well you better clean that up!
Okay.

I kept a very very polite tone and a smile on my face the entire time. That 6 months of being yelled at by cable modem customers gave me the ability to distance myself from people who were really angry at me. It also hurts a million times more when your really really polite to someone who really really hates you. She told me at one point not to run because they had me on camera. On the drive home i was thinking, what the hell would they do? Call the cops? What would they charge you with? Ahahaha.

She was really pissed off and finally gave me a brown grocery bag to put my hair in. With a smile on my face because i knew this was going to be a hilarious story, i gathered up my hair and went along my way, turning around once to thank the nice lady for letting me use her alley. Guess those signs about the alley being monitored by cameras wasn't bullshit.

After cutting my hair, stopping at one place to get something to eat, i went back to my car to get my skates. I skated through the French Quarter and just enjoyed the scenery.

Finally decided to skate through the main park where all the little performers were.

This was the only one that really caught me eye, she earned herself a dollar. Too bad she doesn't have a real job, hehe. Probably pays better then the call center though..

The French Quarter has all kinds of strange things in it to attract drunks to their bars. For example, here is a huge blue cow.

Hehe, oh and here was a big ugly dog that made people want to go into this little store. I didn't go into the store.

There were some really interesting street acts going on on Saturday, this guy was my favorite. Usually i hate these damn people and their stupid acts but this guy was doing some insane stuff and he was really really mean about it which adds a lot of cool points. I first saw him when he had a torch and some lighter fluid so i skated down there to see what this was all about.

He called himself Rex and insulted everyone who slightly annoyed him, it ruled. Here is him with this woman from the crowd up on his shoulders, pretty cool, hehe.

After watching Rex and his antics, i skated around the city for a few more hours just enjoying myself. Then i remembered i always wanted to skate up on the riverwalk so i went up some dangerous steps and skated around there for a while.

They had some more interesting street acts up on the riverwalk, like this guy.

He was playing music by rubbing his fingers over glasses filled with water. I think the picture i got truly represents the insane look in this guy's eyes. I sat and watched for a few minutes, requested he play Head Like A Hole or Opiate, took a picture and went on. He didn't like me very much.

Skating around a little more, i saw the great golden cow of the 90's, a huge statue of i guess Joan Of Arc. I pondered skating over there and trying to destroy in the name of the Hore but decided against it. I'm sure at this point the cops were already getting sick of me.

Skating around a little more, i accidentally skated through the famous Cafe Du Monde. I was just skating, minding my own business and suddenly there were lots of tables, chairs and people! The owners of the establishment were about as happy as the owner of the hotel i cut my hair at so jetted from that area as well.

These guys were chilling behind the Cafe, they seemed really cool so they are going to get preserved in crackhore.com forever. As i took the picture, the huge fat guy goes “That'll be $150”. I snickered to myself then skated off quickly turning around once to make sure they weren't following me, hehe.

It was starting to rain so i got back to my car and decided to head back to Memphis. As i was pulling out i saw this, thought it was pretty cool.

The trip back was pretty hardcore, i had never seen rain come down like that before. At one point i was following four red lights in front of me because i couldn't see the road. It was pretty scary not being able to see where your driving and going 70 mph. I think at one point i hydroplaned for a entire mile. I'm still kinda surprised i got home because when it rains like that most people slow down to about 50-60 mph while i kept my constant 75mph the entire time. Thats what mad skill is all about, children. Flying down I-55, screaming along with Hendrix's Voodoo Child, hell yeah! At one point when the big rig i was following started to hyrdoplane and looked as if he was about to lose it, i screamed “crackhore!” at the top of my lungs and passed him, it owned.

At one point i decided i had to stop for gas so i pulled over at the first exit i saw. The rain was coming down so bad that i wouldn't see which town i was pulling over at, just that they had a exxon. Never guess where i stopped.

AAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! I got my gas and stared at the word Huddle and just sighed. When i had gone in for gas i noticed the inside of the Huddle House was alot like a waffle house. The way i figure it, the HuddleHouse was a Waffle House but they just changed 4 of the letters in Waffle and they got Huddle. Like the riddle of the sphinx.

Finally arriving home, i had a drink with a friend and finally got some sleep.

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Lessons Learned:
1: Hotel owners do not like hair in their alley.

2: If you can't see the road, follow the car in front of you, if you see them disappear into the woods, that means they are going on the wrong way.

3: You don't have to drink in New Orleans to have a good time, but it sure helps.

4: Not everyone listens to NIN or Tool, but they should.

Ya know, life is made up of memories. This is going to be one that will never ever go away. Even after years and years of counseling ill still bear the scars of this night. Thank Hore.

It was a calm Wednesday evening. The hamburgers were grilling slowly on the fire and two webdesigners sat out on a porch in a small city named Memphis. I had got home and mixed myself a drink immediately, just to have a head start and by the time the hamburgers were done Jack Daniels was coarsing through my veins. We sat like civilized beings and talked about all life, women and the ways of the Hore. It was getting dark and both of u were starting to get pretty drunk, being on drink 2 or 3. We popped in the Clouser video which is known for it's grotesque violence and weirdness and sat in darkness as our senses were bombarded by the greatest music ever created and visuals that scar children for life. The drinking continued. We watch the 2nd tape. For about 10 minutes they show footage of the band smashing things in their hotel/dressing room. I began to thrash around for some reason and ended up throwing a road cone across the room. Then it started. Ian threw his glass against the wall, showering the room in glass and i began to dance around screaming. I then picked up the box of crackhore.com shirts and smashed it on the ground, spraying shirts everywhere. Ian then knocked over my Free Jobs News thing over and started screaming. I flipped a chair over and ended up kicking my mug of whiskey across the room. My shoes still stick to the floor, hehe.

We put our shoes on and stumble out of the house. I grabbed a Teki torch from my front yard and ran around screaming something about voices. We walked around the apartment complex. I think. After we walked outside its all a blur. I vaguely remember attacking a huge shrub with the Teki torch and pushing a shopping cart we found on the street. Ian grabbed a sign from the front yard of some apartments and is still in my apartment to this day. I was going to take it back out to the place where i think he took it but it has writing all over it now so it probably wouldn't be the best thing.

I woke up the next morning with a screaming hangover, on my floor with the walls covered in writing. I was also wearing a crackhore.com shirt which i wasn't wearing the night before. Weird.

Moral of this story? Alcohol is cool. I blame Trent for my apartment being trashed. I have emailed him and his manager asking for punitive damages but its not looking good. Whiskey Wednesdays continue to be a routine part of our week to this day. But now we stay away from NIN videos.

I remember it like it was yesterday. Ian and i had been in LA for about a month, working, playing lots of Diablo II at night because of a lack of anything better to do. Our lunch routine had not been set in stone yet so we would drive around looking for any type of place that looked to be of our nature. I had found a Honey Baked Ham store about 3 miles away which i had been eating at about once a week and i suggested it to Ian on that day. We came in, ordered our sandwiches, paid for them, and sat down at one of the small tables they had setup.

Our lunch time conversations are always the same. Whats wrong with life, what we want to fix it, and digressions of that. A lady, her son and her daughter enter the store and walk up to the clerk. I listened with one ear automatically and heard the drift of what they were talking about. The lady apparently had received a coupon for a product which this specific Honey Baked Ham establishment didn't carry or never carried. When the clerk explained this to her, she became exteremly irate and began speaking in a higher tone of voice to where Ian and i both look over. The clerk, some guy who was getting paid 6 bucks max, kept explaining and apologizing to the lady but she really seemed to be upset by it. She kept asking him why she received this letter if they didn't have this product in stock. As if this clerk, when not making sandwiches for humble XML convertors like ian and i, sat in the back printing up these letters and sending them to local residents and he really messed up by saying they had this product when they didn't. This lady really thought it was his fault. She went on and on for about 2-3 minutes about how Honey Baked was going to receive a letter about this horrible tragedy and how she was very very upset that her precious time was wasted. When her and her son and daughter left and the clerk walked back into the back while shaking his head we finally started talking again.

I was in a bad mood, this pissed me off. Maybe a person yelling at another person when it was obviously not his fault brought back a customer service flashback of mine or maybe it was something else. What is wrong with this country? Why do people get so upset about meaningless little crap like this? To quote the late Bill Hicks, “Reasonable people don't write letters, reasonable people get on with their lives”. He's right. A reasonable person would have taken the advertisement in, found out that it wasn't possible for the clerk to fulfill the advertisement, shrugged and walked out without having their day shattered in anyway.

But no, not in America. In the late 80's the focus was “take one for team”, sacrifice your own well being to benefit the corporation or the greater cause. Then in the early 90's when the computer field began to require more people then our society was requiring, the focus went back to the individual and people began to get content again. Employees had more rights, less dress codes and worked just fine. Alot of cases better. Problem is, we went to far. Now our once great country is filled with letter writing soccer moms who think they are the center of the universe and that they have the right to walk over people because they are a consumer. How this will end? I'm not sure but it needs to.

My point? You are not special. You received a letter in the mail just like me. The difference? I have a purpose and you are annoying some clerk who isn't paid enough to care about your petty feelings. You need to understand that every single person you meet is on the exact same level as you. Until this becomes at least somewhat clear in your mind, you are a subhuman. Now kill yourself so you don't ruin my lunch

While ordering, I notice a rather raggedy looking individual badgering the poor asian fellow behind the counter. “Two large ice tea's now, and one when I leave” he yelled at the man. He finished up with, “I'll pay for the third now, and come find your ass when im ready to go”. I thought to myself, how rude. This poor asian guy comes to this country to try to make a better life for himself and, WOAH, GOD DAMN!!!! The asshole at the counter has turned around and I see his face is covered in bad home grown tattoo's!

WTF!?!? Don't get me wrong, I like tattoo's, hell I even have some myself, but not on my fucking face. Im thinking to myself that this guy is either A. a hard core mother fucker, B. less than average on the table of mental stability, or C. a waste of my precious breathing air. I decide to myslef that it is probably a good mix of all of three. Amazingly enough after finishing lunch, going about the rest of my day, chilling out at home with my kids, I cant get this fucking retard off my mind.

FACIAL TATTOO's, WTF is that all about?!? I can't decide if it pisses me off or if im just getting old. One thing I do realize is that no matter how bad my life may be, ie. working at Stream or if I end up sucking cock for dollars in the gutters of Memphis, I will never have a tattoo on my face. Damn! There are some wak ho's in this world.